


another place

by obscvritas (athdhea)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: (very) soft smut with feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, everyone needs a sad ghost boyfriend, more like enemies to friends to friends with benefits to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athdhea/pseuds/obscvritas
Summary: Are we pretending, Ardbert? she’d asked him once, her eyes half-lidded by bliss and exhaustion in equal measure. Do I imagine I am yours? That you are mine?No, he’d told her, then. We don’t need to pretend. We only ever wanted one thing from this.
Relationships: Ardbert/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	another place

> _I am bound to you, with a tie that we cannot break, in a night that we can't replace._
> 
> _I'm lost but found with you, in a bed that we'll never make, it's a feeling we always chase_

She sighs, so sweetly against his skin, and his gaze drifts to meet hers. Her luminous eyes are nearly eclipsed by desire, but Ardbert finds himself taken aback by the softness of her look, the tenderness and sweetness and lo—

 _No._ No, that’s not it. It _can’t_ be.

His pace quickens, fingers of one hand pressing harder— _bruising_ —into her hip as he buries his face in her hair. It’s almost as though he can hide from it, as though he can pretend he hadn’t seen what he’d seen.

But even with his eyes tightly shut, he can’t ignore the feeling of her staccato heartbeat in time with his, the way she whispers his name as he pulls her closer to the edge. He can’t deny the way she would curl into him when she sleeps, the way her hand would always seek his when the world around them seems so intent on falling apart.

 _Are we pretending, Ardbert?_ she’d asked him once, her eyes half-lidded by bliss and exhaustion in equal measure. _Do I imagine I am yours? That you are mine?_

_No,_ he’d told her, then. _We don’t need to pretend. We only ever wanted one thing from this._ She was the first thing he’d touched in a hundred years—it was simple, animalistic desire.

_Was._

But Ardbert can’t deny the stutter in his heart when she smiles at him, the way the world and all its wretched Light can fade to the calmest of shadows when she leans her head on his shoulder. She was the first thing he’d touched in a hundred years—the first person who’d seen him, who’d heard him. She, who understood the burdens he’d carried in life and the regrets that chase him in death. She, whose presence lets him rest, lets him _dream._

It’s stupid—completely, utterly, painfully idiotic. But though Ardbert had tried— _gods, he’d tried_ —to remind himself that she had been his enemy once, that she’s a hero from another world, that he’s _dead_ —it happened anyway, didn’t it? 

He can’t imagine a world where he can’t wake up to her beside him, body curled against his and her expression for once peaceful in slumber. He can’t imagine a life where he can’t reach for her hand when the burdens of his failures threaten to crush him. He can’t imagine being without her.

But he _has_ to. Because foolish as he is to love her, Ardbert is not so naive to believe he wouldn’t lose her. Though she endeavoured to save this world, though she might have begun to see it as something of a home to her—it’s _not_. There are still others who need her, who love her, and she will eventually return to them.

And he knows he won’t be able to follow.

“Ardbert—” His name on her lips makes his heart stutter, and instinctively, he moves to meet her gaze. She raises her head to press her lips to his, ardent and desperate and _scorching_ and Ardbert can’t help but respond in kind. His skin feels aflame as presses deeper, enticing a near keen from her as he drives her ever closer to that precipice.

And when she finally shatters, Ardbert is _enraptured_. She cries out his name, the sound of it like a fervent prayer as she shudders around him. His pace falters at the sight of her, of her flushed cheeks and her parted lips, her sunset eyes looking closer to midnight. Ardbert’s own movements grow more erratic, a desperate sound leaving his throat as he finally spills.

He stifles his moan into the crook of her neck, chest heaving against hers. Faintly, Ardbert can feel the light drag of her fingers on his back, tracing scars and etching soothing circles into his skin. He lifts his head and—

His heart nearly stops. 

The flush remains on her cheeks, her hair entirely mussed, her lips kiss-swollen. She smiles up from beneath him; a softed, pleased, _lover’s_ smile. 

There’s a small bruise at her collarbone where he’d nipped her—where he’d _marked_ her. And Ardbert knows she’s left similar marks on him; a little chain of bruises along his neck and fourscore welts on his shoulders from the drag of her fingers. They’ve painted such wonderful lies on each other, haven’t they?

Lips still curved into that sweet smile, she reaches for him, palm pressing gently on his jaw. She doesn’t say anything, but somehow, Ardbert thinks he knows what she means to say.

_In another life, what could we have been?_

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, it's a Bastille song. Tried to incorporate some of the lyrics into the dialog so credit goes to them?  
> But good god the orchestral version of this song ;n;


End file.
